


Anticipation

by raktajinos



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Consensual Violence, Episode Related, F/F, Flash Fic, Flirting, Oral Sex, Painplay, Sexual Fantasy, Torture, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 14:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2391554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raktajinos/pseuds/raktajinos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was her mouth. That goddamn mouth. She’d lose concentration just focusing on it, her imagination filling in the blanks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anticipation

**Author's Note:**

> the violence/torture tag is for some mild torture-pain-kink. These gals are totally into that lol.

She watched as the brunette walked away from the makeup counter, the swagger as she made her way through the painfully lit alleys of the department store, designer heels clicking on the tile as if she owned the place. 

The woman paused at the edge of the mall entrance, turning once more to look at Shaw, a big, wicked grin on her face and blew her a kiss. 

Shaw’s vision tunneled on Root’s ruby red lips, the beautiful deceptive mouth that was capable of such a dichotomy of emotions; love and caring, but also of such violence and blind-faith. She wanted to kiss it. She wanted to push the woman up against a wall and devour her, smear that lipstick all over her face and have her gasping for air. 

They were leading up to it, they both knew it. The constant flirting a game to see who would break first. They were evenly matched, each prone to a reckless impulsiveness that got them into trouble. Yet they could both be biblically patient, her trained for years to sit on a target for days and Root waiting for her malware to insidiously do its work. 

So it was a matter of frustration, who couldn't handle the anticipation and would snap. Shaw thought it would be her. 

Root came to visit her in the depressing department store at least three times a week, encouraging her to “play dress up” and give her a makeover. She’d lean in closely to her, let her fingers brush along her arm, let their thighs touch as Shaw applied blush to her cheeks. 

It was her mouth. That goddamn mouth. She’d lose concentration just focusing on it, her imagination filling in the blanks. Root would pick out a colour for the day and ask her ever so nicely in that squeaky voice of hers, to apply it for her, leaning in and opening her mouth seductively. 

She’d go on autopilot then, applying the makeup, but her mind would be imagining doing something else. Sometimes she imagined that _she_ would put the lipstick on herself, then kiss her roughly, transfering the colour onto the other woman’s lips, smearing it around her face. She’d push both her hands through those long brown waves, tugging to give just the edge of pain. Cause she knew Root would like that; she got off on torture, on walking the line between pain and pleasure. 

But then again, so did Shaw. 

The first time Root had tortured her, tasing her, tying her excessively tight with the plastic cord and then threatening to burn her with an iron. She’d been rightfully afraid, the woman would do exactly as she threatened and enjoy it. But Shaw had also been incredibly aroused by the entire thing, this tall beautiful woman who smelled of leather, with large eyes and a wry mouth that she couldn’t stop staring at. She wanted to be untied so she could throw the woman to the floor and show her just how good pain could be. Tie her hands together so she couldn’t move or touch herself, while Shaw took off her pants, blowing warm air down her legs as she went. She knew Root would have spread her legs for her that day, welcoming her eagerly. Shaw would have taken the iron and pressed its pointed tip into the delicate flesh of the other woman’s inner thigh, marking a path up to her hot center. She’d touch her there with one hand, while the other continued it’s light burn trail, dipping into her, feeling how wet and eager she was. The other woman would start moving her hips, grinding them down into the carpet, trying to get Shaw to touch her where she wanted. Shaw hoped she’d beg for it, beg for her. Or maybe she’d be gagged. The fantasy always changed. She’d let the woman writhe around while her fingers circled her clit, close but never touching, other hand (the iron now abandoned) pumping two, then three fingers inside her, driving her wild. She’d finally give the woman release, leaning down to place her mouth on her, tasting the salty sweet flavour that was all hers coating her tongue. She’d bite down on the sensitive bud, making the other woman scream out in release, a smug grin on Shaw’s face.

From that day forward, it was all she thought about when Root was around. 

And it was as if Root knew, if the dark gloating smile she left her with was any indication. 

Oh yes, one of them would break soon. And it was going to be a glorious, violent day indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> written for a porn battle at gameofcards. I know I know, it's a little *less* porn and a little more character study. lol. 
> 
> unbeta'd. All errors mine.


End file.
